Good Morning (a poem)

Before my eyes open,
while my loose prone limbs are registering,
My monkey mind begins its job
of reminding me who it is I am
in this bed, this house, this life.

Spinning cob webbing to capture the half-truths
and old stories which entertained it all night,
to bind this stirring, wakening Her
to her place in the world.

It scans the area expertly, frantic but not panicked,
like the sitter counting familiar mops as they scamper away
across the playground.
Is everyone here? Are they all accounted for?

Then relieved, sighs and drops to the bench to stand guard.
No less diligent, but a little more discreet.
Letting me stretch my toes toward the floor
and open my ready eyes.

Jill Malleck

March 8, 2011

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